


Stretch

by Kristinaa_207



Category: Lance Tucker - Fandom, Sebastian Stan characters, The Bronze - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Lance Tucker being a bossy cocksure little shit, Sebastian Stan’s character, The Bronze, and you love it, kinda rough, sex in a kind of public place, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 05:13:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14664036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kristinaa_207/pseuds/Kristinaa_207
Summary: Things get heated between you and your ex, Lance Tucker.





	Stretch

Lance hated coming to this gym. Years ago he’d met you here, both of you training together when you were up and coming gymnasts. Lance had moved out of town since then, taking an Olympic Team Coordinator position once he’d stopped actively competing. You, on the other hand, were coaching here now. Since your less than amicable break-up eight years ago, Lance has made a concentrated effort to avoid being here at the same time as you. Something he wasn’t always good at.    


“Hey, Tucker,” Billy says, looking up from the desk when Lance walked into the gym’s office.   


Lance just raised his perfectly manicured eyebrows, eyes wide as he held up a hand in response.    


“Zoe’s getting changed right now,” Billy continues as Lance crosses the room. “Should be ready to go in about five, ten minutes.”   


Again, Lance hardly acknowledges Billy’s words, giving him a quick nod as he runs his finger down the hourly schedule for the gym that day. The only people penciled in for this evening were Zoe and Billy; your name was nowhere in sight. He released a relieved breath, hanging his sunglasses from the collar of his white v-neck t-shirt as he turned. 

“All right,” Lance says, clapping his hands, and rubbing them together. “Let’s do this. I’ve got places to be.” 

Over the next half an hour, Lance walks around the gym, taking mental notes and silently critiquing Zoe’s technique as she spun on the uneven bars, and flipped around on the mats. She was good, definitely talented enough to be on the Olympic team, but he wasn’t a big fan of her coach, Billy.    


Billy got on Lance’s shit list shortly after his relationship with you ended. Billy offered himself up to take Lance’s place as your partner, something Lance was sure had a double meaning. Not only that, he was hardly paying attention to Zoe’s performance tonight, instead more interested in the constant glances to his cell phone he had poorly hidden in the center pocket of his hoodie.    


“Okay, Zoe, I think I’ve seen enough,” Lance says, speaking loudly to get Billy’s attention as well. He approached the young girl, rubbing his palms together when he stopped in front of her. “You’re good. Real good, and I think if we clean up your landings a bit, you’d be a valuable addition to the team.”   


Zoe jumps up and down, clapping excitedly before extending a hand for Lance to shake. “Oh my god, thank you so much, Mr. Tucker! I’ll practice real hard, I promise!”    


Lance gave her a wide, toothy smile before turning to face Billy. Well, turning to face where Billy  _ had _ been standing a minute before, at least. 

Lance spun around, finding Fuckface Billy standing back-to, engaging in an overly-friendly conversation with you.   


_ When the fuck had you shown up? _ _   
_

You inhale deeply when you see Lance approaching, steeling yourself for what’s sure to be an all around frustrating situation. You watch him from over Billy’s shoulder without actually watching him; using your peripherals to pretend to be listening to the man speaking to you, while focusing on that cocksure ex of yours just sauntering in your direction.    


“Your girl’s all done,  _ Bobby _ .” Lance says, slapping Billy on the back– _ hard _ .   


“Okay, man,” He says, turning to glare at Lance. “And it’s Billy.”   


“Right,” Lance barely gives Billy another second of his time, instead, turns his baby blues on you. “What the hell are you doing here?”   


Your eyes widen and you rear back a bit, hovering a hand over your chest. “Wh-what am  _ I _ doing here?”

Lance nods eagerly, lips pursed together in a tight line.   


You circle your hand around in a motion that encompasses the whole gym. “ _ This _ is mine.”   


“Your name wasn’t on the schedule, I checked.”   


“Oh, I’m sorry, was I supposed to get permission from you to come to my place of business?”    


“Listen, Tucker,” Billy interjects, unable to pry Lance’s eyes off of you. “She shows up sometimes on the nights before she trains the students, utilizing the empty gym to loosen up, get some practice in.”   


That’s when Lance takes in your outfit; tight black compression tank top and matching capris. You crossed your arms in front of your chest when you caught him eyeballing your boobs a little too long. This makes him smile.

“Uh, coach?” Zoe asks, appearing out of nowhere. Both Billy and Lance turn to her, both answering to this name. Her eyes are on Billy. “My mom’s not able to pick me up tonight, remember? I’m gonna need a ride home.”    


“Maybe Mr. Tucker can take you?” Billy offers, hooking his thumb over his shoulder to point at you. “I’ve gotta help–”   


“No can do, Benny,” Lance interrupts, squeezing Billy’s shoulder. “It’s out of my way and I’ve got shit to do. How about you take her and–” he checks his big, gaudy watch and tosses you a wink . “–I’ll stick around and help out.” 

Billy stares daggers at Lance as the infuriating man casually applied chapstick. He knew Lance was using the wrong names on purpose as a way to assert his dominance, and just to be an overall rude bastard, as per usual. So he tried not to take the bait again. 

“It’s fine, Billy,” you assure him, touching his forearm before slowly walking towards the back room. “Take Zoe home, and I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”   


After a slight hesitation, Billy nods, keeping his eyes on Lance as he guides Zoe towards the exit.   


Lance couldn’t contain his smirk any longer, giving it free reign as he began walking backwards towards the room you had just slipped into. He lifts a hand in the air, giving a sharp wave just as Billy was heading out the door.  “See ya later, Barry!”

Lance spins on his heel, inwardly chuckling as he neared the door to the back room. He remembered from his time here that this was a physical therapy room.    


“Started without me?” He asks, shutting the door behind him.    


You don’t bother to look up from where you sat on the floor mats, because you could hear the smile on his face. Instead, you continued stretching, bending and reaching the toes of your right foot with both hands as you dropped your head to face your knee.   


Lance’s footsteps got closer, and soon he was kneeling down behind you, his large hands sliding up the curve of your back until he was gripping both shoulders. He massaged a bit as you sat up straight, the pressure from his thumbs feeling phenomenal, something you sure as shit weren’t gonna tell him.    


“Lie back,” he directs, pleased when you only hesitate slightly before doing as he says.    


Lance shifts, lifting one of your legs while the other is outstretched beside where he kneels. With your calf on his shoulder, he instructs you to keep your leg straight as he leans his body forward, resting both palms flat by your head. The stretch feels incredible, and you have to focus hard to contain the moan that is dying to escape. When he repeats the action with your other leg, he pushes down a little further, his slate-blue eyes staring intently into yours.    


_ This man was such a pest.  _ _   
_

He kept you on your back for the next stretch, positioning you so the soles of your feet were pressed together, clamped tight between Lance’s knees, forcing your legs open in a ‘butterfly-like’ pose.    


“Hands on your hips,” he tells you as his hands rest on the inside of your knees.    


Again, he smiles as you follow his order. Gently, he applies pressure, forcing your knees down towards the floor. Your eyes roll closed, and you exhale a deep breath, starting to relax at the familiar hands of your ex. But when one of his familiar hands found its way to be splayed out  _ very _ low on your stomach, your eyes opened again.   


“ _ Ah ah, _ ” he cooed, one side of his mouth quirking up slightly higher than the other. “Don’t arch your back.”

After a few more stretches, and thinly veiled attempts to grope, Lance stands up, extending his hand to you. Instead of accepting his offer, you reach for your water, popping open the top before taking a long sip, keeping your eyes on Lance. “You gonna get up here, or are we gonna have ourselves our own little floor routine?”    


“What’s your game, Tucker?” You ask, still refusing his hand. “Why are you here?”    


His perfectly manicured eyebrow arches. “Uh, obviously scouting that Zoe kid.”   


“No, why are you  _ here _ here?” You ask again, gesturing to the room.    


“I think you know exactly why I’m here.”    


Lance extends his hand again. This time you take it, and the moment your fingers touch his palm, he pulls you up as though you were weightless, yanking your body against his.    


“I knew you’d rather have me than that limp-dicked mama’s boy,” he says with a smirk as his hands slip up under the back of your tank top. “We both know nobody stretches you like I do.”   


You push on his forearms, stopping him from sliding his hands up any higher. “You waltz in here with your perfect hair, megawatt smile, and big dick personality, and expect me to, what, forget our past?”   


“No way,” he answers, holding you closer so you’re face to face. “I expect you to use it.”   


“Use it? Lance, I fucking  _ hate _ you.”    


“Then fuck me like you hate me.”   


You take his stupidly perfect face in your hands, pulling him quickly towards you in a hard kiss. He was ready for it, hands immediately gripping your ass to hold you closer to him, allowing you to feel his cock hardening low against your belly. Your work fast, pushing his open jacket over his shoulders and down, and he releases you just long enough to let it fall to the floor before he’s on you again, pushing past your lips with his tongue.    


“Too many clothes,” you say breathlessly, tearing your mouth from his. You let him suck at your neck for a moment before pushing him back to get some space. “Too many clothes.”   


Lance nods, reaching forward for your tank top. His fingers catch your sports bra as he lifts, and you raise your arms, allowing him to remove both articles of clothing in one fell swoop. You don’t miss the clenching of his jaw when his eyes take in your bare chest and it spurs you on, making you toe off your sneakers without untying them.    


“ _ Tucker _ ,” you say meaningfully when you find him staring as your socks join the clothes pile. “Too many clothes, let’s go…”   


And with that proverbial fire lit under his ass, he took the hem of his own shirt, turning it inside out as he yanked it up over his head. You hear the hiss of a zipper being lowered as you roll your skin-tight leggings and panties down your legs, and when you stand back up straight, you see him kicking the dark denim to the side. He’s down to his underwear, a tiny little pair of navy blue boxer briefs that are leaving very little to the imagination.    


With desire darkening his eyes, Lance smirks; crooking a finger at you to beckon you closer. This simple action makes your skin break out into goosebumps. You move forward, leaving all clothing behind as you take the few steps to have you standing just before him. You reach for his cock, barely touching the stiff outline in his briefs before he grabs your wrist, tugging it roughly behind your back.    


“Not yet,” he bites out, pulling your other arm behind you as well, securing both wrists easily in one of his hands against your lower back. “Gotta stretch you a bit more.”   


With his eyes locked on yours, Lance slips two fingers into his mouth, taking a moment to suck on the digits before nudging your thighs apart. Seconds later, that hand is between your legs, those same two fingers sliding easily inside of where you were already wet.    


“For me?” Lance asks, a smug gleam in his eye as he moves his fingers inside of you, dragging them slowly in and out.    


“Shut up,” you answer, leaning forward to kiss him into silence. But he moves his head back, holding you still and just out of reach as he watches in amusement as the combined look of pleasure and frustration hijack your features. “Asshole.”    


Lance chuckles, pushing his fingers deeper into you, so deep that you’re forced up on your toes, and your body weaves against him. His fingers are long– _ so long _ , that his depth is almost painful, causing you to gasp. You feel his forehead against yours, and his warm breath on your mouth; your lips brushing against his as he continues to work you over, not really kissing, just breathing the same air.   


Lance’s tongue darts out, licking into your mouth before flicking suggestively at your top lip. “I want these pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”   


“ _ Mm _ ,  _ fuck _ .” You moan, loving the idea. You might hate the man, but he was in possession of The Most Perfect Cock in the World, and you couldn’t wait to taste it again.

You whimpered when he pulled his fingers from you, your body jerking when they made a quick swipe up over your clit. Lance made a little sound himself as he took a moment to admire the shine your arousal left behind before both fingers disappeared into his mouth, his eyes rolling closed as he sucked your taste from them.    


“I want you to go lay on that massage table over there,” Lance whispers, releasing your wrists and grabbing your face with one hand, forcing your lips into a slight pucker. “Head over the edge, upside down. You know what I like.”    


With a sharp smack to your backside, he dismissed you, sending you into motion to get into the position he ordered you too.    


You laid flat on the black leather-topped table, watching from your inverted vantage as Lance pushed down his briefs, his long, thick cock bobbing before him as he took his place by your face. His hand wraps around his base, squeezing as he strokes upward, teasing you by rubbing the wet tip of him against your lips. You lick off his taste, having to ball your hands into fists to resist grabbing for him and taking him into your mouth. But you know Lance calls the shots, so you wait as patiently as possible.    


“You want this, don’t you?” He teases, and you nod, keeping your eyes on the prize. “I had to earn  _ my _ gold…I should make you beg for it.”   


Fortunately, this time he’s all talk, because seconds later he’s sliding the thick crown of him past your lips. Lance isn’t usually one for gentleness, but with this he is, at least at first. He rocks his hips slowly, letting you prepare his length with a sheen of saliva to help with the drag.    


“Open just a little– _ yeahhh _ , that’s it baby girl,” he purrs, running soothing fingers along your already overworked jaw. His hand rubs down, covering your throat. His last few thrusts are so deep that he could see the bulge of himself in there. “Look at you taking all of me in, such a good girl.”   


You gasp for air when he pulls out, wiping away the string of saliva that seemed to still connect him to you. Fisting his dick, you pumped him quickly, taking just the head of him back into your mouth. Lance’s hands slide over your breasts, fingers pinching your nipples before moving further down, pushing your thighs open again. He seems to want to reward you for the throat-fuck, his fingers finding your swollen clit as he played with you again.   


“Look at this greedy little cunt of yours,” Lance rasps, watching your hips push up off the table, grinding your pussy against his hand. “Feeling a little empty, sweetness?”    


You nod and sit up, chest heaving as you catch your breath. Lance moves quick, positioning you so you’re sitting widthwise on the table with him standing between your spread legs. You maintain the split when he tells you to keep them wide, and lean back on your arms, hands braced flat on the table behind you as you watch.

Cock in hand, he taps the head on your clit a few times, resulting in a full-body shudder. “Does your pussy ache?” He slid down, pushing just the tip in before bringing it back up over your throbbing bundle of nerves. Your head fell back as you cried out in pleasure and frustration. “You really wanna come, don’t you?”   


You whimper, nodding frantically, actual words escaping you in your time of need. This apparently isn’t enough for him. Lance reaches up, wrapping a hand loosely around your throat to pull your attention to him as he leans in, bringing you nose to nose. His cock is still sliding mercilessly between your slick lips, the vein on the underside massaging the rise of your clit to the point that you’re pretty sure you could come just like this if he kept it up.   


“I wanna hear you say it. Wanna hear you beg.”    


You swallow thickly, managing to force a single word from your suddenly dry lips. “Please,”   


Lance’s grip on your throat tightens a bit. “Say, ‘Please Coach Tucker, fuck me with your perfect cock.’”   


With a slight moment of hesitation for your dignity, you conceded, repeating his words to him in a raspy plea, keeping eye contact the whole time.    


Lance smiles victoriously, and with a small hip adjustment, he slides in, filling you slowly until his hips meet the backs of your thighs. The man must have some shred of decency left in him because he stills once fully seated, grinding just a little bit to open you up and let you get used to his substantial size.    


You reach up with one hand to hold his shoulder, the simple action telling him that you’re ready for a proper fucking. Something else that gold medalist Lance Tucker has mastered. He slammed into you hard and deep, over and over again, grunting loudly with every thrust. You reciprocated, vocalizing your pleasure, doing your best to rock against him to help your neglected clit find the friction it needed.    


Lance’s hand slips between your bodies, his middle finger flicking against you like a tongue would. “Something you need?”   


“Just like that! Just like that, don’t stop, oh fuck, don’t stop!” You cry out, fisting both hands into his hair. Your movements become jerky as you clamp down around him, coming so hard you see stars.   


With a soft chuckle, Lance leans in so his face is buried in your neck as he fucks you in tight strokes. “I’m gonna fucking come, tell me where.”   


You push him back and he pulls out, allowing you to quickly slip down to the floor. You kneel before him, sitting back on your heels as you open your mouth. Lance curses under his breath, stepping forward to press the head of his swollen cock to your outstretched tongue. He gives himself a few harsh strokes before he’s coming, emptying himself into your waiting mouth. You swallow what he’s given you, much to his delight.    


With his thumb, Lance wipes excess fluid from just below your lip, pushing the digit into your mouth for you to suck off. “Mmm, my favorite place to come.”   


On weak limbs, the two of you begin to get dressed, the sudden silence in the room making you realize just how loud you’d been. Part of you is embarrassed, mentally praying that Billy hadn’t shown back up at any point during the last half hour. But the other part of you couldn’t care less, and is already replaying every sinful act.   


“For a while there, I thought you weren’t gonna let me come.” You admit, once there’s significantly less skin exposed on both of your bodies.    


Lance snorts. “A gentleman always makes the lady come first.”   


You make a show of looking around the otherwise empty room. “I see no gentleman here, Tucker.”   


“Fair point,” he shrugs. “But you know me, doll face, the only time I’m content with coming second is when I’m fucking.” Lance leans in, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead. “See ya around.”   


You watch as he heads for the door, swaggering his way across the room the way only he could.    


“Lance, one more thing?” You call to him, making him spin around in the open doorway. “How the fuck is your hair still perfect?”


End file.
